


Altar

by Lertsek



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Accidental NCT 127 Ensemble, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Turned Into Vampire, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Marriage, Not Really Character Death, the possibility for exhibitionism is there but not acted upon, there will be blood - Freeform, which jungwoo thinks is unfortunate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lertsek/pseuds/Lertsek
Summary: Doyoung thinks that after 127 years, it might be time to settle down.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Kim Jungwoo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	Altar

Jungwoo isn't the first, of course he isn't. Doyoung has dated quite a few men—and women, when he went through that phase in the eighties—over the course of his life. Some kind, others not so much. Jungwoo falls into the kind scale on this spectrum. Although he has an edge to him, something that can cut when you’re least expecting it. 

He looks beautiful in all colors. Blue has always been one of Doyoung's favorites though. Jungwoo in blue with the wind in his hair and his button-up falling off his shoulders, stars reflecting in his eyes and a dazzling smile on his lips. Jungwoo looks good in blue with the night sky around him, Doyoung can only imagine how it would be in daylight.

He can imagine it, make an assumption, has a vague idea of how the sunlight would hit Jungwoo's skin. But these days it's hard to remember names and faces, let alone what light looked like in its purest form. 

Doyoung's mother used to say he was good at memorization. It saddens him a bit that he has let her down in that regard, but it wouldn't be the first, and probably not the last either. He is sad she can't be here today, his mother. Doyoung would like to imagine this is something she could be proud of. Maybe as proud as when he finished his degree in medicine. Although she would like the location of today a bit less, even though she spends her days in a place much the same.

Jungwoo looks beautiful in all colors. In all hairstyles, hell he even pulled off that awful bowl cut three years ago that still sends shivers down Doyoung's spine when he accidentally pulls up a picture from that time. Doyoung is going to miss that, being able to look at Jungwoo in picture form—even if through the years they might have upgraded from paper to holograms.

Jungwoo looks beautiful in all colors. But—and Doyoung might be a little biased here—he looks extra good in black. Jungwoo comes out of the shadows he is already well acquainted with, slipping forward into the night while Taeil walks beside him, arms linked at the elbow. It isn't a large crowd, and it isn't a room, but Jungwoo's magic is impactful nonetheless.

A white embroidered veil hangs in long drapes around him, covering his face and throat. The eyes of the crowd follow his movements. It's like he's walking on air, his skirt half hitched up in sturdy hands, bare feet just peeking out from below the fabric. Jungwoo looks absolutely majestic in black.

Black like the room they met in, only then there were UV lights strung up on the ceiling, making the fluorescent paint reflect brightly on human skin.

Doyoung remembers the orange on Jungwoo's stomach, the blue that had gotten into his hair, the yellow on his lips. Doyoung remembers wanting to add the color red to his neck. It's funny, how most of the memories he holds are of Jungwoo. He tried to forget them once, like he had with his previous lovers.

Jungwoo had told him he couldn't live like this, trying to live a dual-sided life. It was like a blade with sharp edges on both sides, and with it he didn't only stab Doyoung but also himself. How was he supposed to live during the day and awaken again at night? Technology was ever pushing forward, but humanity still hadn't found an alternative to sleep.

Doyoung liked seeing Jungwoo well-rested, so he had let him go. They reunited half a decade later, and Doyoung still knew how Jungwoo liked his eggs in the morning, still knew he preferred tea over coffee and always left the teabag in long enough for it to start shriveling. Doyoung also knew that he was still in love with the man before him. His dusty heart had a spot reserved for Jungwoo and his bad morning breath and crazy bed hair. 

Doyoung liked Jungwoo well-rested, but he also liked the way Jungwoo sang in the shower, even imitating the backup vocals during his grand fifteen minute performances. He liked the way Jungwoo made his entire wallet go empty when they went out for dinner, liked the way Jungwoo would try to repay him when they got home, liked the way Jungwoo’s breath felt against his skin after, when he was taken by sleep and far away in his dreamscape. Doyoung liked the sound of his name rolling off of Jungwoo’s tongue when he was tied up with his wrists to the bedposts, liked the way Jungwoo said his name even more when he was the first person Jungwoo would call when he had good news to share. 

Doyoung liked Jungwoo well-rested, but he also liked Jungwoo being his. A possessiveness he hadn’t felt in decades. And maybe it was selfish to start it back up, but Doyoung thought that maybe, after more than a hundred years, he was allowed to be selfish for a change. 

He can see a hint of eyes darkened with makeup through the veil. And when he looks closer there are lips painted with faint red lipstick. He can see the lips pull up into a smile, no teeth, not yet. 

“Don’t you look handsome,” Jungwoo whispers in that sweet voice he reserves just for teasing Doyoung. 

Doyoung is wearing a three-piece off-white suit with the buttons fastened. He left the more traditional attire to the people in the crowd. But that’s not the entire reason for wearing white. Jungwoo has always liked living life messily, who was Doyoung to deny him today. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Doyoung responds. “I like the dress.” 

“I’d like for you to rip it off when we’re done.” 

Doyoung can’t help himself but to let out a laugh. “That can be arranged.”

Jungwoo looks at him like he’s ready to feast. Doyoung tries to follow the movement of the red lips with his eyes as Jungwoo speaks. “Yeah? You think you can squeeze me into your busy schedule?” 

“I have to say my vows in a minute but I think I can still do tonight,” Doyoung says.

Getting married was less a spur of the moment decision and more of a casual thought. It wasn’t like they were getting married because they felt like they had to, it was more that they could, so why not. 

Before Jungwoo broached the subject of wanting to turn, there were days, months, maybe even years of thought that he put into it before asking Doyoung if he was willing. If he was going to change, there was only one person Jungwoo wanted and trusted to do the job. 

Compared to that thoughtful planning, Jungwoo turning over in bed and saying, fuck it let’s get married, should have been anticlimactic. And maybe it was. But it hadn’t even stumped Doyoung, cause without a moment’s hesitation he had responded, let’s. 

This isn’t his first time getting married, and neither was it his first time turning a human. Only this time, Doyoung felt like he wasn’t going to regret either one. 

The ring looks good sitting on Jungwoo’s ring finger. It’s a simple gold band, not engraved with their wedding date, but instead the inside holds a secret neither of them will share with the world even after death. It’s a secret that years ago wasn’t worth anything, not until people started using their names as a newfound currency when magic influxed alongside technology.

They picked out the rings together, got them engraved on the black market by a guy who no one would miss if he didn’t show up for 7 pm supper. Jungwoo was going to wear this ring into eternity, Doyoung wasn’t going to do him injustice by trying to engrave it himself. 

Because there is value hidden in them, a value Jungwoo only whispers into his ear when they fuck, Taeyong—Doyoung’s best man—wasn’t even allowed to hand them to Doyoung, let alone hold the rings. 

Another precaution to keep their secret is that Doyoung denied Jungwoo’s request to try exhibitionism. For the wedding, that is. It’s no secret that being bitten by a vampire can act as a stimulant to humans. Doyoung trusts Jungwoo with his life, but still, there was no knowing what Jungwoo would scream out were he actually getting off while simultaneously being drained of his life. 

Which is the actual finale of the wedding, the Turning, because Jungwoo has never lived his life in moderation and he wasn’t about to enter death like it either. 

When Johnny finally tells Doyoung he can kiss the groom, he is surprisingly gentle about it. He turns to Jungwoo with patience he doesn’t remember having. He takes the veil between his fingertips and carefully lifts it up to reveal Jungwoo’s smiling face. 

It’s easy, from there. Taking Jungwoo’s face in his hands feels like second nature, pressing his lips against the others’ feels like coming home. The realization shocks Doyoung, that instead of a house all he needs to really settle down is this human who’s kissing him like Doyoung is his source of oxygen. Despite the shock, Doyoung is not surprised in the slightest. 

Jungwoo licks over his fangs and Doyoung pulls back. 

“Are you sure,” Doyoung asks. Because he’d hate himself if he didn’t, because he wants to know, because Jungwoo deserves the right to change his mind. 

Jungwoo regards him with the same look he gave Doyoung when he’d asked if Jungwoo wanted to move in with him. It’s a look that Doyoung can’t describe as anything other than _fond._ The look goes straight to whatever is left of Doyoung’s heart. 

The nod Jungwoo gives isn’t enough, which he knows, and Doyoung knows that Jungwoo knows that. Vocal confirmation is something they have long ago agreed on as one of the foundations of their relationship. 

Jungwoo tilts his head just slightly, to outsiders it would look like he is pondering. Doyoung knows better. 

“Yes, Doyoung,” Jungwoo says, shooting him another _look,_ this one going right past Doyoung’s heart to somewhere lower. “I’m sure.” 

Doyoung lets his fangs come through fully. He clutches Jungwoo tighter, bunching up the black dress at the shoulders under his hands. Doyoung leans into the crook of Jungwoo’s neck, placing his mouth over the skin where two bite marks rest that fit the exact shape of his fangs. 

He can feel Jungwoo looking at him, can slightly catch his stare from the corner of his eye. A hand comes up to tangle into his hair. Jungwoo doesn’t clutch at the strands, instead just holding Doyoung’s head. 

On the invites—handwritten, because Doyoung is old-fashioned and his mother taught him that you write your own wedding invitations—they made sure to put a warning. The warning being: _It might get a little unorthodox (and bloody) but don’t worry we planned for it so please don’t intervene._

Which was more of a way of saying that if anyone dared touch Jungwoo’s blood, Doyoung was going to have their head. 

Sicheng had called as soon as he had gotten the invite, asking if he and Yuta should bring some toys, or that new rope they bought just last week. 

Doyoung had very calmly explained that it wasn’t that kind of unorthodox. Jungwoo all the while trying to hold back his laughter with shaking hands at Doyoung’s expressions. At one point Jungwoo had asked if Sicheng could email him some knot recommendations, which led to a conversation Doyoung quickly fled from.

They put a warning on the invitations, so when Jungwoo whispers to him, _make it messy._ Doyoung doesn’t hold back. 

He sinks his fangs into the re-knitted flesh over the marks and lets one hand come to rest on the other side of Jungwoo’s neck, holding him in place. Doyoung loves the little _ah_ Jungwoo let’s out, revels in the way Jungwoo tilts his head further to the side to give better access. 

Doyoung drags Jungwoo closer, pushes their hips flush against each other. His grip on Jungwoo’s neck tightens, his fangs sinking in deeper. 

The hand in Doyoung’s own hair isn’t a soft caress anymore. He can feel Jungwoo start to fill out underneath the dress and wonders if his husband even bothered to put on underwear. It makes Doyoung grin, something Jungwoo can feel against his skin. 

“Stop playing around,” Jungwoo says, voice more firm than Doyoung would’ve imagined it to be in this state. “Doie,” Jungwoo tacks on at the end. Which sounds more like a whine if anything.

Doyoung allows himself to pull out his fangs, licking his lips as he goes. 

He turns to address the guests. “You probably already figured, but I’m gonna kill him now.” He puts on his friendliest face, something he honed when he worked in customer service for three months and then never again. “If you even think about touching his blood I’ll leave you out here for the sun to scorch.” 

“Always the gentleman!” someone in the crowd shouts. Doyoung can’t be bothered to find out who. Not when Jungwoo is unbuttoning his blazer and looking at him like _that._

Jungwoo’s eyes are pure sin, but his mouth is sweet. “I love you,” he says. Doyoung lets it sink in for a moment, revels more in those three words than in feeding. 

He lets his hands come up to cup Jungwoo’s face, squeezes his cheeks in the way he knows Jungwoo pretends to hate. He doesn’t disappoint now either, pouting back at Doyoung. 

Doyoung laughs. “I love you too,” he says. He waits a beat. And another. Then tilts Jungwoo’s face roughly to the side and foregoes the two holes where blood is still pouring out of to instead sink his fangs into the main artery. 

There is a reason why he left the traditional attire to the others. There is a reason he is wearing white. What is the use of getting messy when you can’t even see the result. 

He lets the blood sprout out freely, rips the skin a bit further for a better spray. He laps at some of it with his tongue, let's most of it land wherever. 

Doyoung chances a glance at Jungwoo. His eyes are closed, mouth stuck in an o shape. The next second his knees give out. But Doyoung had counted on it, he is there to catch his weight. 

The blood keeps flowing as Doyoung carefully places both of them on the ground. He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer, producing a little bottle filled with red. There is another one, as a backup, a third one with Taeyong cause this is something that Doyoung doesn’t play around with. This is the part he can’t fuck up.

Doyoung’s maker had let him suck on his disgusting arm, something Doyoung was barely able to do as his body was already halfway in hell. Jungwoo now too, wouldn’t have that strength. He opens the bottle and takes Jungwoo’s chin to open his mouth further to pour the blood in. Doyoung’s own blood. It’s still fresh, taken from his veins before he got dressed this evening. 

He pushes Jungwoo’s mouth shut, pinches his nose so Jungwoo has to swallow. 

They’d practiced this before, once, on their bed while drunk on laughter and each other. 

This is different, way different. Doyoung had insisted they feed Jungwoo some of his blood before the ceremony, but Jungwoo had refused. 

I trust you, he’d said with a certain kind of conviction in his tone that reminded Doyoung starkly of when Jungwoo had said he wanted to get turned in the first place. 

What else was Doyoung to do with this trust but take it into his arms and hold it as close as he could for as long as he could. What else was Doyoung to do but return it with the same kind of fierceness. 

“I trust you,” Doyoung says as Jungwoo’s heart stops. Doyoung can’t feel a pulse, his now husband being reduced to nothing more than the people around them laying underground in a pile of bones and decomposed skin. For one agonizingly long second, Doyoung can say he broke the world record of being the fastest man to be widowed after getting married on the same day. 

Jungwoo’s pulse doesn’t come back, but from one second to the next, Doyoung can feel him take a breath. Or try to, out of instinct. 

A memory comes back to Doyoung then, as he cradles Jungwoo in his arms and tells him to push air in and out of his lungs while blood still flows from where Doyoung ripped open the skin. The memory is from an entire lifetime ago, Doyoung asking a man who he should not have trusted why vampires even need to breathe in the first place. After all, there is no heart to pump oxygen to. The man had smiled at Doyoung, fangs wide in his mouth and said, _how else do you think we can talk?_ Doyoung had found out the logic behind that a month later, when he was lying in a pool of his own blood with fang marks deep in his neck from a man he thought he loved but was now nowhere to be found. 

He puts the memory on the backburner for now, stores it in the back of his head for later access. He doesn’t group it together with memories of other failed relationships. He barely remembers his makers’ face, let alone his name, putting him alongside people like Jaehyun—who he spotted in the crowd today, shooting encouraging smiles to Johnny who had stepped in as priest for the day—would give the man way too much credit. 

The thought of Jungwoo looking at him as his maker has Doyoung almost doubling over in laughter. 

“I’d say you were smiling because I just came back from death, but then again, I’ve spent too much time with you to know that’s probably not the case.” 

Jungwoo only wheezes once throughout the sentence. Doyoung feels a bit of pride. 

“Just thinking about how I literally brought you back to life,” Doyoung says, helping Jungwoo to his feet. 

Jungwoo grins, his lipstick is smudged. When he opens his mouth, Doyoung can see some of it sticks to his teeth. He wants to reach out and wipe it off, but his hands would probably do more damage than good. 

“Can we save the god complex for the afterparty.” Jungwoo’s eyes take in Doyoung’s bloodsoaked look. He shifts on his sticky feet, restless. “Would it be selfcest if I started licking my own blood off your suit?” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how selfcest works.” 

“First you deny me exhibitionism, now this. Is it too late to file for a divorce?” 

Doyoung laughs, a full laugh coming all the way from his belly. “I love you.” 

Jungwoo smiles, it looks a hundred times more beautiful without the veil. The veil which has gotten lost in the scuffle and is soaking up more blood on the ground with the second. “I love you too, Doie.”

Jungwoo leans in and Doyoung can still feel his smile through the kiss. He slowly licks into Jungwoo’s mouth, swiping his tongue over Jungwoo’s teeth. Doyoung can hear the crowd he had completely forgotten about roar. Someone whistles, Doyoung has a distinct feeling that it’s Yuta. 

“I thought we’d already gotten the first kiss done and over with,” Johnny yells over the noise. The crowd laughs.

Jungwoo bites Doyoung’s lip and looks at him like the exhibitionism kink is still going to be explored tonight. He leans back in Doyoung’s arms, licking his lips as he does and making it a point to swallow. 

“You really drank this disgusting blood all this time, jesus Doyoung, couldn’t you have told me I needed some iron supplements,” Jungwoo says, raising his voice so it travels to the people gathered around them. The crowd lets out another boisterous laugh into the night.

“I’ve always said his taste palette was weird,” Taeyong says. “I mean look at the suit, who the fuck would wear that to their own wedding.” 

Doyoung can’t help but laugh along. “Says the guy who still thinks eyebrow slits are in fashion, Taeyong it’s 2042 get with it.” 

Johnny breaks it up before it can get out of hand and lead to a year or two where Taeyong and Doyoung give each other the silent treatment again. 

Jungwoo leans into the crook of Doyoung’s neck to whisper, “For the record, I love the suit.” He gives a lick to the collar of said suit because he is disgusting like that. Doyoung can’t deny that he loves it.

Doyoung turns away to address the crowd again. “Who’s ready to feast!” The screams are even louder than when they kissed. Vampires and humans alike, selfish people. 

“Can we eat Mark now that Jungwoo is off the table?” Haechan questions. The people gathered burst out into laughter once again. Mark’s sputtering gets overruled by Sicheng telling Haechan he can’t eat the humans. At least not the living, breathing ones. 

Doyoung turns back to Jungwoo, deciding to let his friends argue it out amongst themselves. “How does it feel to have beaten death?” he asks. 

Jungwoo takes his hand without hesitation—the added texture of the golden band is new but welcomed—and hikes up his skirt with the other. “Pretty fucking good.” 

“Just wait until we go out and you can’t check your reflection in the mirror, you’ll regret it then.” 

Jungwoo is pulling him along past the graves and towards crowd, fingers intertwined. Doyoung feels Jungwoo squeeze his hand. He squeezes back. Jungwoo looks back at him, eyes genuine. “I don’t think I’ll ever regret it.” 

Of course Taeyong comes to ruin the moment. “Watch out with what you say Jungwoo, forever is long, especially if you have to spend it with Doyoung.” 

They get swept away by the rest of their friends, walking to the exit of the graveyard, on their way to retreat from the oncoming sunlight. 

Doyoung watches as Jungwoo laughs with Taeyong and is taken aside by Taeil to check if the wound is healing as fast as it should be. 

Just before they walk through the heavy metal gate, Jungwoo looks back, eyes searching for Doyoung, face lightning up when he spots him and stopping in his tracks to let Doyoung catch up. 

No sunlight is needed to see that Jungwoo looks beautiful with his hair crusted in blood and pointing every which way, the shadows clinging to his skin like home. 

Doyoung is going to miss looking at Jungwoo in picture form, but he has an entirety ahead of him to admire the man before him. 

Jungwoo isn't the first, of course he isn't. But Doyoung would like for him to be the last.

**Author's Note:**

> ao3 author lertsek hangs head in shame (happy birthday to me)
> 
> 2020 is going to be the year of the snoop mark my words
> 
> [ twitter ](http://twitter.com/dreaminahero)|[ curiosity killed the cat ](https://curiouscat.me/)


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